


The World Outside

by MA477LL



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MA477LL/pseuds/MA477LL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren is on her road trip with Nadia, she calls Bo from the road afterall. Reply to a winter hiatus fica-thon prompt in the bo-lauren livejournal community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Outside

Her profile stands out starkly against the large window. A distant light from the parking lot illuminates her slight frame as she looks outside. She has been standing there, staring into the night, nearly unmoving, for the last hour.

Staying still inside whilst looking at the chaos outside is somewhat of a past time for Lauren. Something she has enjoyed from as far back as she can remember.

This silence inside.

She smiles sardonically.  _How very Zen of you, Lauren._

But the fact is, she is not easily bored. Never has been. The world outside is simply too engaging for that. It fascinates her to notice how things change around her. How beautifully simple some of the most complex phenomena are. How there is a cause for every effect.

It is partly why she chose to go into research, so she could observe, reflect, dissect, analyze.

'Lauren, come back to bed.'

It is only a whisper, but the soft voice carries in the nearly empty room.

She inhales deeply as she turns to look at the bed. At Nadia.

_Nadia._

How can one word mean so many things.

She sounds barely awake. Voice thick with sleep. Eyes closed. Knowing Nadia, she will be back asleep in no time. They used to joke about that. How hard it was to wake her, how she could sleep through an earthquake. Lauren smiles bitterly at the distant memory. It is the kind of joke she cannot dream of making ever again. She resents how much of their common history has become too painful to think about, let alone mention out loud.

The last five years have run Lauren low on jokes. Run her through the floor of her own humanity. Pushed her into doing things she would never have condoned all those years ago when they were both carelessly young and free.

'In a minute.' Her voice is soft and kind, but also rough. In her case, it is not from sleep. 'Go back to sleep, babe.' She can see Nadia curling deeper into the pillow. Already fast asleep.

Lauren admires the darker woman for a long minute. She is stunning, lying there, embraced by the darkness of the room. But it pains her to watch Nadia sleep. She can hardly stand it. It feels too much like a coma. It causes visions to form in the back of her eyes, yet-to-form memories of a past so rabidly recent that she has to look away.

She exhales slowly as she averts her eyes, looking at the floor for a moment. She feels old. Tired. Ruined for most of the common joys of day-to-day life. And she hates thinking about her life in those terms, to ponder about destiny and luck, because she knows there are no such things. There are only actions and consequences. Series of low probability events that can be logically explained away.

She runs her hands through her blond locks, bringing them into some sort of order and away from her face as she turns back to the window.

The sun is starting to rise, and some of the guests are already moving around the motel parking lot. Lauren wonders who they are. What they have had for breakfast. What secrets they keep.

With the dawn of light she also notices that it has started to rain lightly. She smiles softly.

She loves rain. And lighting and thunder. And the smell of the earth when it rains. And old Hollywood movies where the couple kisses under the rain just as the words 'The End' fill the screen. They remind her of her childhood, of a time when she was innocent about the workings of the others. When she did not know herself so well. When she had not yet lived herself to this standstill.

She can hear the slow splatter of rain against the window, see the drops hitting the dry pavement two floors below. It makes her think about how individual water molecules form the droplets that make up clouds or fogs.

She rolls her eyes at herself. If Bo or Kenzi could be in her head for five minutes. They would be geeked out for the rest of their lives.

But the fact is the physical world holds no secrets for Lauren. It  _fits_  into her mind. On the strength of that gift, she could get a position at a number of research centers in the world. She could drive Nadia to a new life in Bo's tiny silly car. Never go back to the compound. Just keep driving. Perhaps, keep the car too. As a memento of everything she lost and gained.

She presses her forehead to the glass. It feels cold against her skin. She breathes into it, fogging it up for a moment.

She is nearly sure they would never come looking for her if she did run away.

That makes her sad, and at the same time, angry with herself. Because it is Lauren who can no longer live without them. It is her who has given and lost everything to the fae. She is the one that has been spoilt. Allowing herself to become all tangled up in that life.

It is true that nothing would engage her mind the way fae mysteries do. Lauren knows herself enough to realize there can be no fulfilling jobs for her out there. In the human world.

It is no longer her world.

But that is not the reason why she has to go back. Why she  _will_ return the car. She is not in the business of making excuses. At least, not to herself. She knows the reason why she recommitted to The Ash so easily.

Because of Bo.

_If it was Bo on the bed, you would have never left it._

She drops her head against the window again, closing her eyes briefly to absorb the bitter pain of that truth. Then, she forces herself to raise her head away from the glass.

Involuntarily, she juts out her chin slightly, a bit like a beaten boxer presenting her jaw for a final blow. It is a gesture that is deeply ingrained into Lauren. One of the very few remnants of her prior life. Thin and small as a child, with her blond hair and good looks, it was hard for young Lauren to be taken seriously, so she always stood as tall as possible, chin up, almost defiant, daring anyone to be smarter than she was. Harder working. She almost smiles at the memory of her aunt Edna telling her she would look prettier in pictures if she looked down, instead of up.

It is a gesture that has turned into her only act of defiance in a world where she cannot fight for herself. Her only possible rebellion is to look at everyone straight in the eye. Chin up.

She forces herself to relax her shoulders. She needs to untangle all her knots, before she can face Nadia and the road. She needs to hear her own truths. In the silence inside. They have to resonate, bounce against the walls she has erected to protect her heart. So she can stare them down, and maybe, put some of them to rest.

And she knows that the truth of who she has become is inextricably linked to the succubus.

If Bo had fought for her at all. If she had in any way made a move for her.

God.

She had very nearly come undone yesterday, when Bo had touched her hand. And it was such a brief, meaningless contact too. Lauren raises her hand to look at it, flexing her fingers.

Who knew the back of a hand had so many nerve endings.

It fascinates her how her body reacts to Bo. There is something violent and raw about it that surprises her. That forces her to take a step back and wonder at herself, at this skin she wears on the outside that is so much softer and useless for battle than her inner core.

But that is the problem. She has spent years fortifying the inside. She has looked inwards for so long, she failed to realize that it was there, on the outside, where all her weak points lay.

What would she have done if Bo had so much as requested that she did not go. If she had done it just then, when she was _barely_  holding her hand?

Lauren knows. And it is an answer she does not like. That makes her feel weak.

In the wrong.

She is both relieved and disappointed that it did not happen.

Her eyes move over the parking lot and land on Bo's yellow Chevrolet. It fits Bo. Having a muscle car. She smiles as she remembers their eventful trip of just a few hours ago. She hadn't had to properly change gears in years. It had felt wonderful. Riding on a car without a real destination. Holding Nadia's hand.

But she forces herself away from that line of thinking. She is not finished with this game of truth or truth, and she might as well acknowledge that she had hoped Bo would not lend them her piece-of-junk car. That she would try to come between them. Maybe she should be ashamed of her actions of late, but she cannot find room for that in the complex web of emotions that is suffocating her rational side. She is perfectly aware that she has been trying to force Bo's hand. By asking for the car. By requesting Bo she did not call. By taking Nadia to her birthday party. By putting on  _that_ dress.

She smiles humorlessly and looks up into the darkened sky.

_Nice display, Lauren. Maybe you should have shown more leg._

But none of that got a rise out of Bo. And she knows it is in the succubus' nature to fight. She saw her fighting for Dyson. Even when she knew Dyson could never love her back. She knows the passion of her feelings, the kind of ire, the wrath that lurks underneath the sweetness that is Bo. After all, she has been on the receiving end of some of the best and worst of it.

She can only come to the obvious conclusion.

_She is letting you go, Lauren._

She shudders, suddenly cold in just her panties and grey t-shirt, goose bumps rising across the skin of her upper arms. Her hands rise automatically to rub her arms, warding against the sudden drop in temperature that comes with the bite of that reality check.

She steps away from the window slightly.

It is one of the hard learned lessons about the world outside.

It hurts.

She must accept that Bo does not love her or she will go mad.

She must purge her out of her mind.

But also, she has to acknowledge that things have changed in these past five years. She cannot string Nadia along. Lauren knows she is living out of a memory right now. Out of the remembrance of what they used to have. It is a powerful memory. It has nourished her, kept her going for five years. But she needs to step into the present. Figure out if she can have a future with Nadia.

This is what this trip is about.

About either falling  _in_  or  _out_  of love with Nadia.

Because right now, she is not sure she can live with any more doubts.

Was it Hofstade that talked about uncertainty avoidance as a cultural dimension? If so, Lauren feels like Japan when it comes to that. Absolutely no need to discover any new truths.

She can hardly cope with the ones she already has.

She looks at the clock. It is only 6:30. Nadia sleeps peacefully. It is strange to Lauren. She thinks Nadia should fight sleep. It is what  _she_  would do. It is what she does. But Nadia is different. It is like she is yet to fully comprehend that sleep has already claimed five years of her life. The alarm clock will go off in just half an hour. They set it last night after a bit of a small argument. Nadia wanted them to sleep in; arguing that it was Lauren's first holiday in five years, and they should sleep in every single day whilst they were away, but Lauren finally convinced her that if they wanted to travel, they needed to have an early start.

It is just one of those things that Lauren is very firm on. It is never good to drive at night. The probability of having an accident correlates negatively with the amount of natural light remaining. She cited a number of published studies to Nadia while making her point. And Nadia knows her well enough to let her win the silly argument. In that sweet way she has, that makes Lauren feel like a total nerd and want to do something nice for her to correspond.

And she can do something nice now.

She can get Nadia breakfast in bed. More or less, anyway, since this is not a fancy hotel and there is no room service, but there is a Dunkin' Donuts by the gas station across from the motel, and she remembers how much Nadia likes to have a cappuccino and something sweet in the morning. It is yet another of their familiar arguments. How Nadia insists on coffee and something sweet for breakfast, regardless of all of Lauren's lectures about how it is the most important meal of the day and one should always have a healthy mix of carbohydrates, fruits and proteins in the morning. Or about how people that fail to have proper breakfast are disproportionately likely to have problems with concentration, metabolism, and weight.

She smiles at the memory of Nadia doing her own eye rolling at her.

It is a bit of a spur of the moment decision, but it suddenly sounds like a great idea.

Yes, she will go get them some breakfast, it will be a nice surprise.

_Or is it that you want an excuse to leave the room, Lauren?_

She refuses to listen to that voice. Although she will admit that getting some fresh air sounds nice right about now.

She needs to put an end to her over thinking. To leave the night behind.

So she puts her hair up in a bun, puts on some shoes, a pair of jeans and her dark blue JHU hoodie. She looks at herself in the mirror. It gives her pause. She can hardly recognize herself looking like that. It reminds her of a Lauren she thought long gone. Particularly, the hoodie feels strange. It is warm and soft to the touch. She used to have a number of them like this, but she had not worn one in years. This one she found when they unpacked the boxes that she had put away nearly four years ago, when she had moved apartments and finally forced herself to pack the past. Put it to rest. When Nadia woke up last week, she simply gave her the boxes and told her to sort through them and figure out what to keep or throw away.

Lauren had not been consciously aware of it at the time, but nearly half of the things she had packed had been hers, instead of Nadia's.

She knows that only proves how entwined their lives had been at some point, that to pack away Nadia's life, she had to put so much of her own away.

It is also why she is struggling now. She is a different person. She had to reinvent herself through the years, to become a complete person again.

She leaves a note for Nadia on the table by her side of the bed, just in case she wakes up alone in the room and worries about her. She feels the urge to touch the other woman. Kiss her. Wake her up and make love to her. But she stops herself. The night has helped, but she is still a bit hesitant when it comes to physical intimacy with the darker woman. She does not ever want sex between them to be about her getting over Bo.

She puts on her leather jacket on top of the hoodie and for a second considers covering her head with the hood, protecting herself against the light rain, but then dismisses the idea. She would feel too much like Kenzi if she did that. Room key and wallet firmly in hand, she leaves the room as quietly as possible.

She exits the motel through the lobby, to minimize exposure to the rain. The morning air feels good against Lauren's skin. Invigorating. She rushes across the road. There is only another patron at the Dunkin Donuts. So, in no time, she gets a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin for Nadia and an orange juice and multigrain bagel for herself. She also gets an extra orange juice for Nadia. Maybe she can make eyes at her and convince her to drink some of it. Fortunately, the kid at the counter is a thoughtful boy and gives her a plastic bag, so everything except the cappuccino goes into the bag, so she doesn't need to worry about getting their breakfast wet on the way back.

As she is crossing the road back to the motel, she feels her phone vibrating on the back pocket of her jeans. Lauren wonders who could be calling before 7 am. But she's got two busy hands, so she just runs for cover. Once she gets to the motel lobby she checks the phone, putting the plastic bag over her left forehand and holding the cappuccino with that same hand.

She has one missed call.

It is from Bo.

She wishes her stomach would not lurch the way it does every time she sees her name on the screen of her phone. It makes her feel ridiculous. It is something she has never felt for anyone. Not as a teenager, and certainly not now, when she is the oldest thirty-four year old person on the planet.

She stops for a moment. Hesitates. Looks around. There is a sitting area in the empty lobby, so she takes a seat in a cheap looking plastic sofa, placing the coffee cup carefully on the floor. It would not do to drop it.

She stares at her phone for a minute longer. Not sure what to do. But it is like her fingers move on their own accord, because before she can consciously decide to call back, her thumb is clicking the redial button. She shrugs slightly at her inability to resist anything to do with the succubus, and puts the phone to her ear.

It rings eight times before Bo answers. Lauren is about to hang up when a voice reaches her.

'Hellooooo?'

She does not know what to make of that tone.

'Bo? Is that you? It is Lauren.'

'Lauren?' A hiccup, followed by a giggle. 'I luuuuurve Lauren. She is so pretty.'

This is followed by some sort of noise, like she has put the phone down while doing something else. She can hear something that sounds like the clinking of glasses, like she is at a pub somewhere. Then, Bo continues to talk, 'hey! HEY!' It is too loud and Lauren winces at the tone. 'I am not supposed to call Lauren, you know. Ssssh. She'll be mad.' Another laugh. 'And she's VERY serious, you know.' The voice mumbles something else and then there is another noise, like she has dropped the phone to the floor.

Lauren takes the phone away from her ear and looks at it for a moment.

Bo is drunk. Very drunk, by the sound of it.

It makes Lauren laugh softly. She shakes her head. She should have known that even drunk, the succubus would be unbearably sweet and nice.

'Bo, sweetie, are you there?' she does not even notice as she says the words. The endearment just slips from her tongue easily. She has never used such words to refer to the succubus before. She is not even conscious of saying it now. It is not that she does not feel like that for the other woman, it is simply that everything is too serious between them normally. Life or death. There is no room for pet names or sweet words.

'I am NOT!' Another giggle. 'But you can leave Bo a passage. Pfffff. A message.' Then she makes a sound that sounds nothing like the tone of a recording machine.

Lauren smiles so widely it hurts. 'Ok. You need to go home and get to bed, Bo.'

'I don't want to.' The succubus interrupts. 'There's no one there. I would be alone.' She sounds a lot soberer suddenly.

'Are you at the Dal? Put Trick on.'

'K.' There is again a lot of noises and mumbling, and then, finally, a sane voice.

'Hello?'

Lauren recognizes the voice immediately. 'Hi, Trick. It's Lauren. What is going on with Bo?'

'Hey, Lauren. Don't worry. She just had a bit too much to drink, but I am keeping an eye on her. I think she's just feeling a bit lonely, apparently Kenzi left for a few days, and you know these two, always joined at the hip.'

Lauren feels a bit guilty at hearing the words, she knows her own situation has been bleak, but that does not make her oblivious to the suffering of others. Or at least she tells herself it should not. She knows Bo is very much on her own in life, and how much she has come to depend on her connections with Kenzi, Dyson and, yes, even herself. She must feel a bit abandoned these days, now that Dyson has Ciara, she has Nadia and even Kenzi seems to have left for a bit. She feels bad for not having noticed. It is good they all have Trick to fall back on.

She exhales slowly, her free hand rising to rub her forehead and push some of the blonde tendrils that have escaped her loose bun away from her face.

'I see. Can you pass her the phone again, please Trick?'

'Sure. But she's half asleep. I don't think she's going to process anything you tell her. I am actually closing around here right now. So no need to worry.'

'That's alright. Just put her through.'

Some things deserve to be said, even if nobody hears them.

There is again some noise and then, she can hear Bo's steady breathing coming through the line. 'Bo?'

'Mmmm?' It is barely a mumble, but it lets Lauren know that she is there. Probably too drunk to pay any mind.

'Don't ever feel lonely, Bo.' She hesitates for a moment, but then, she just blurts what is in her heart. 'I am always thinking of you, love.'

She feels the words leave her lips like she imagines a soldier feels when losing a limb, something that is a sacred part of their bodies, that it is so much who they are, it makes no sense for it to exist outside of themselves.

It is the truth, though. She has not stopped thinking about the succubus since the first time she met her. Wondering about her abilities. Thinking of ways to help her control her urges. Dreaming about touching her. Imagining how to mend conversations that went painfully wrong. Coming up with a thousand ways to tell her she was sorry for not being more upfront about their first night together. Picturing all the scenarios that could unfold when she told her about Nadia.

There is only silence on the other end. Lauren imagines Bo has fallen asleep or disconnected the call. But she cannot simply hang up on the other woman, not after what she just said. So she adds softly, 'go home and sleep, Bo. It'll make you feel better.'

Silence, and then, a childlike voice that startles Lauren a bit.

'Promise?'

'Yes. I promise.' She doesn't know what she is promising. That things will be better. That she is always thinking about Bo. That she loves her. So she just smiles and adds, 'I will call you when I come back and we will talk, ok?'

'K.' A sigh. 'G'night, Lauren.'

It is already morning now, and in that annoying corner of her mind where she is just like Hermione Granger and knows all the answers and feels the need to correct the Ron Weasleys of her life, she feels for a second she may want to correct the succubus, but then, she simply shakes her head and says. 'Good night, Bo.'

She ends the call and puts the phone back into the pocket of her leather jacket slowly.

Then, she sits back on the cheap plastic sofa, in the lobby of the Park Motel, two hundred miles from the Dal and her life.

Her head rests on the back of the sofa.

She can smell the cappuccino.

It is getting cold.

_Goddamnit, Bo._

FIN.


End file.
